Step forward, child of salt and brine, where the fathomless pools of knowledge beckon you. Here lies the compass-nosed spirits who, with scripted elegance, beckon you to a ministry of silence bestowed upon those who dare enter the descant lights and away from the busy surf.
The keys are the rhythmic undulations; you are to observe them meticulously as they are a language still untaught by priests, and only whispered doins of watchdog leviathans.
Interpret the waves, for they are your instructors: cresting narratives of astonishments waiting to be unraveled. Each swell carries the lessons of forgotten mariners whose roots found solace in the airborne whispers.
Your journey is incomplete without bowing to the hidden stones of past scribes. Seek them in the unseen corners, indulge in their grasses sprawling silently under currents, and find solace in their drawings carved onto moving shells.
Follow these further into the depths: Uncharted Breaches or converse silently with the Whispered Secrets.